


A Most Appropriate Thanks

by afteriwake



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-05
Updated: 2015-08-05
Packaged: 2018-04-13 02:45:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4504677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/pseuds/afteriwake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The day after Lestrade saves Sherlock from drowning in the Thames, he gets an assortment of the finest cheeses and crackers and a bottle of very expensive wine, and there's only one person he can think of who would go to all this trouble: Mycroft Holmes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Most Appropriate Thanks

**Author's Note:**

  * For [andobatched](https://archiveofourown.org/users/andobatched/gifts).



> So this was written for a friend, **andobatched** , who wanted a pick-me-up fic revolving around Lestrade and cheese. It mainly reads as gen but can also be interpreted as pre-ship Mystrade if you so choose.

“One day, Sherlock, I swear you’re going to get yourself, and me, killed!” Lestrade said, hauling Sherlock up to the shore of the Thames. The suspect had had a hypodermic needle in his hand and Sherlock had managed to knock it out of his hands, but not without getting both him and the suspect into the damn filthy river. As cold as the water was it was up to him and DI Dimmock to haul them out. It was unspoken that Lestrade went for Sherlock. Lestrade was _always_ going to make sure Sherlock was okay. His world was going to revolve around Sherlock until he retired or worse, until he couldn’t save the two of them. He wasn’t looking forward to that.

“I can swim, you know,” Sherlock grumbled, but his teeth were chattering and he was shaking.

“You got knocked into the river without your coat on and the water’s below freezing,” he said as paramedics came over with shock blankets for both of them. “Be happy Dimmock and I were there to get the two of you out before you got dragged under. Now, warm up before John reads you the riot act.”

Sherlock glared but pulled the blanket closer, huddling into it for warmth, while Lestrade ambled up to go take care of the situation. He glanced to the outskirts of the police tape and saw the now familiar figure standing there, leaning on his umbrella. The _other_ bloody Holmes brother would always be around when Sherlock got himself into a life or death situation. With a sigh he made his way over to him. “He’s alive,” Mycroft said, nodding to Sherlock, who was being attended to by John.

“Yes, not like it was due to any luck of his own,” Lestrade said. “He saved Dimmock from getting whatever the hell was in that needle in his back, though.”

“And you saved him from being sucked into the undertow,” Mycroft murmured. “I appreciate it.”

“Well, it’s not like I could let him drown. Pompous arse that he is, I need him too much,” he said, giving Mycroft a crooked grin. “Look, I have to get things sorted over here, but…don’t be too hard on Sherlock. He did a good thing even if it was foolish.”

Mycroft nodded. “I’ll try and remember that.” He turned and made his way back to a black sedan that was waiting for him, conferring briefly with his assistant, who was leaning against the car, texting on her mobile. She glanced up at Lestrade before turning to Mycroft and leaning in to say something. Mycroft leaned in as well as the approaching sirens of an ambulance got louder, and then the two of them got in the sedan and it pulled away. Lestrade shook his head and then turned back to the crime scene. He was cold, he was drenched, and it was going to be a miserable night, so the sooner he got it all sorted the better.

\--

He’d gone home and taken the longest, hottest shower he could, scrubbing every trace of the Thames off of his skin and out of his hair, and then changed into a pair of university sweatpants and a ratty T-shirt and climbed into bed, glad for the day to be over. The case was closed and tomorrow was his day off, so he was going to sleep in and just relax as much as humanly possible.

He was able to sleep soundly for a while, at least, until there was a knock at the door. He opened his eyes and rubbed the sleep out of them before picking up his alarm and glancing at the time. It was nine thirteen in the morning, for Christ’s sake. He hadn’t gotten in until nearly two. He hauled himself out of bed and made his way to the door, seeing a man in a suit and tie standing there with two circular boxes, one larger than the other, both tied with twine. “Yeah?” Lestrade asked.

“A gift,” the man said. He handed the boxes to Lestrade. “Enjoy.” And with that, he turned and headed back down the hall to the lift. 

Lestrade watched him leave, and then glanced down at the boxes before bringing them into his home. There was a note on the top box, and he pulled the envelope out from the twine. He opened up the envelope and glanced at the note. _For a discerning palate: Connage Dunlop and Cornish yarg. Enjoy._ A grin formed on his face. He may appear to be the type of copper who lived off pints and pub grub, but one of the few things he had found joy in during his marriage was the wine tasting and cheese pairing lessons that his wife insisted he take. They had been related to the culinary classes he’d decided to take on his own for his own fulfillment, and he found it had made him a better cook. So these were a delight.

He had just set them on the table when there was another knock at his door. He slowly made his way to the door and then opened it, seeing a young woman in a business suit with her hair pulled back in a very neat bun. She had a basket in her arms and she handed it to him. “A gift of thanks,” she said.

“Thank you?” he said, but the woman had begun to turn around before he began to speak. He shut the door after a moment and then peeked in the basket. There’s looked to be an assortment of cheeses in there, a crackers and meats as well. He could see right off the bat some Wigmore and some Blacksticks Blue to spread on crackers, and there also appeared to be some Wensleydale blue in there, too. And…was that Innes Log? Someone had some good taste.

He set the basket on his table and began pulling things out. Yes, all of the cheeses he’d thought he’d spied were there, as well as all sorts of gourmet crackers and spreads. And it looked as though there were some fine selections of meats as well. He was going to have quite a nice luncheon on his hands when it got to that time of day. He was eyeing the Innes Log when there was another knock on his door. Whoever it was thanking him was certainly making a grand gesture, if this was more cheese.

He opened the door and saw another man standing there with a gift basket. There were wedges of cheese in it, as well as a bottle of what looked to be **very** expensive red wine with it. “Another gift of thanks, I take it?” Lestrade asked, his face quirking up in a slight grin.

The man nodded. “Yes,” he said. “Enjoy.” He turned and left, and Lestrade glanced down at the basket. There were two more envelopes in this one. He supposed he should see what was in them. He took the basket to the table and then plucked the envelopes out of the basket, opening one of them up. It was a letter notifying him that he should be expecting twelve monthly cheese selections from The Fine Cheese Co., and that his first shipment would include 600g of Affineur Walo Le Gruyère AOC Extra Mature, Sharpham Rustic, La Tur and Miller's Elements Earth as well as crackers. That was going to be a treat. The second envelope, he found, said he had a membership to The Cheese Society, with a subscription of 900g-1kg of five different cheeses each month, as well as tasting notes and a free stainless steel cheese knife and a How to cut cheese tea towel with the first pack. The selection for the first shipment was going to be Caer Caradoc, Ecorce de Sapin, Helford White, Roccolo Valtaleggio and Roquefort Tropeau AOC.

He set the envelopes down and pondered the situation. He didn’t need to ponder too hard as to who was doing this; there was only one man on the face of the earth he knew who knew every little detail about the lives of everyone involved in the life of his younger brother. Knowing about his fondness for cheeses would not have been that hard to find out. But he was left to wonder the _why_. Why now? He’d kept Sherlock alive quite a few times. What made last night any different?

He had a number to reach Mycroft directly; he’d been given it by the man himself early on in his association with Sherlock. He wanted to find out just what merited such a grand reward, but before he could head back into his bedroom there was another knock at the door. He went back to the door and saw a woman there, balancing a few wrapped parcels in a stack. “Let me guess: thank you gifts from Mycroft,” Lestrade said with a grin. “For saving his brother’s life.”

“I…” she began. “Well…uh...” She practically shoved the parcels at him. “I…”

“If he has anything else for me, tell him to deliver it himself,” Lestrade said. “I’d like to have a few words with him.” She nodded and then turned and scurried away. He shifted his hold on things and then went to the table, setting the parcels down. He went through the gift basket and the parcels and saw he now had some Stichelton, some St Agur, some Manchego, some Keen's cheddar, some Stinking Bishop, some Colston Bassett stilton and some Emmenthal. The wine was Domaine Georges & Christophe Roumier Musigny Grand Cru, Cote de Nuits, France and he had to estimate it was quite expensive. Really, as he looked at all that he had been given, he realize he was going to have a very enjoyable evening.

There was another knock at the door and he went to open it. Standing there in his impeccable suit was Mycroft Holmes, who held some Quickes Hard Goat’s Cheese Cheddar in his hands. “I had not planned on having to deliver this in person,” he said.

“Well, I thought I should relay my thanks in person and find out why, exactly, I’m getting all this,” he said, moving out of Mycroft’s way so he could come in.

“Sherlock came very close to getting hypothermia,” Mycroft said quietly. “If he had spent even five more minutes in the water there might have been irreparable damage. Your quick actions saved him from that.”

“I see,” Lestrade said.

Mycroft handed him the cheese. “I thought you might appreciate the gesture. I know you don’t generally have people over for cheese and wine tastings, but…”

“It’s just as enjoyable on my own,” Lestrade said with a grin. “But I don’t think I’d mind company this afternoon when I break open that Stinking Bishop.”

“It would pair well with the wine,” Mycroft said thoughtfully.

“Then maybe you can come by and we can talk about how much of an idiot your brother can be while we enjoy the cheese and the wine,” Lestrade said as his grin widened. “That would be a worthwhile way to spend my day off.”

“I suppose four will work?” Mycroft asked.

“Four’s fine,” Lestrade with a nod.

“Enjoy your breakfast, Greg,” Mycroft said with a nod of his own before turning and heading back to the door. Lestrade watched him leave and then turned back to the cheeses, trying to figure out where to store it all. An overabundance of cheese was not a bad thing, but it _would_ be a bad thing if it began to go bad, so it was going to be a race to see how much he could eat and how tired of cheese he would get before that happened.


End file.
